


Honoured

by Poeticality



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gap Filler, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 23:12:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poeticality/pseuds/Poeticality
Summary: After Justin's flashback at Gus' party in 202, Brian takes him home.  This is a gapfiller for that point in Brian's POV.





	Honoured

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrueIllusion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/gifts).



I had known from the minute the suggestion fell from his lips that it had been a terrible idea to bring Justin to Gus’ birthday party, even though he had insisted and assured me that he was ‘fine’. I’d been suckered in by those blue eyes and his voice, and before I knew what I was doing I was nodding along, telling him to tell me if he needed to leave. I kept telling myself that we’d be among friends, among _family_ that cared for him - what on earth could go wrong?

In the instant I felt him flinch against my shoulder I knew the answer, and immediately spurred into action. I did the only thing I could without drawing attention to us, knowing that Justin wouldn’t want the added pressure, though I personally didn’t give a flying rat’s ass, and drew him into my arms, letting his nose nuzzle into my chest, trying to ground him. To calm him.

My own heart was breaking through my chest, my blood was ringing in my ears, and all I could hear was the sound that haunted my dreams, the sound of Chris Hobbs thwacking that bat across the head of the boy I loved. I couldn’t let myself be taken away by my own thoughts, though. I had to focus on Justin, on getting him out of there with the minimum amount of fuss and bother from everyone else.

The drive to the loft was silent, and I was trying not to look like I was constantly checking on Justin through the mirror whilst actually checking on him constantly, but he seemed trapped in his memory. The only thing I could do, safely, was to raise my free hand to his neck, stroking the nape in an attempt to ground him again. Thankfully it seemed to work. He blinked, eyes refocusing as he glanced around, then at me. I kept my eyes on the road, barely able to resist turning to him, but silently I reached forward, capturing his hand gently in my free one, running my fingers over his knuckles softly.

No one tells you what it’s like to go from having someone in your bed every night, every morning, to suddenly waking alone again. No one describes the confusion, the gut wrenching loneliness, the heartache and the way your heart jumps into your throat as the memories return, as you remember _why_ you’re alone. I guess I kind of get why people don’t tell you… because it hurts too fucking much to admit to anyone, let alone yourself.

Having Justin back home was a mixture of elation and constant guilt. I wasn’t sure what to do, what he needed, so I tried to keep my steps gentle, my movements careful. I watched the way his eyes moved, the way his lips parted and the breath came out, searching for clues. Its strange; I don’t think I’ve ever paid so much attention to another person before, but perhaps that’s the only reason I was able to jump to action so quickly at that party.

I nudged him toward the bedroom, and he went, easily and gratefully, the loft falling silent as the soft sound of him sleeping reached my ears. I tried to be quiet, tried to clear up small things whilst he slept, keeping my own mind away from the thoughts that were trying to consume me. How could this one person unlock everything I’d been trying to run from? It was as though the greyscale had been lifted to reveal the colour, like one of Justin’s drawings, captured forever. I could never change what had happened to him, and that would hurt for longer than I’d ever let him know, but Justin deserved to be loved. He deserved to be honoured. If I’d had known how, I would have given him everything, because he was worth it.

Would I go back, if I could, and erase Justin Taylor from my life? It would certainly uncomplicated things… but he’d changed me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be changed, but either way he’d done it, slowly, innocently, perhaps without realising. I _wanted_ to be the person he could lean on, the person he could count on. If I’d never met him, I would have lost all of that. I’d had a brief, painful reminder of what it had been like without him after the bashing, after he’d been released from the hospital, and in all honesty, it wasn’t something I could ever go back to. It wasn’t something that I _wanted_ to go back to. He’d infiltrated every part of my life, of my body and whatever soul inhibited it.

Like a moth to a flame I was drawn to Justin’s side as I heard the rustling of bedsheets, uncaring as to whether I was burned by his touch, just needing to be near. “Better now?” I didn’t bother to hide my concern.

Justin nodded, murmuring in assurance, the bedsheets warm as I sat, drawing my legs up just a little, taking a breath before turning to face him. I was unsure what he wanted from me, whether he wanted me to touch him, or to hold back. The last time I’d tried, he had almost fallen apart; and not the a way that I’d wanted. Perhaps I’d been naive to think it would be that easy. “You really freaked me out,” I hesitated, unsure why I was even saying this… but perhaps honesty was the way to go. Perhaps it was time I tried levelling with him. Justin had always shown that he was more mature than we gave him credit for, perhaps it was time I showed him that I realised as much. Perhaps he needed to know that I cared, that I worried about him.

“What, you?” His incredulity struck like a knife to the gut, but I couldn’t blame him for it. I’d done everything to push him away, to tell him that he was unworthy; and each time he kept coming back. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment, after all.

“It was like you got hit all over again.”

“I remembered walking away, suddenly hearing your voice call my name - to warn me.” The memory was back, slipping through my mind. I tried to ignore it, but Justin’s words didn’t help. I struggled to focus on him, refusing to be pulled back into the guilt. If Justin was brave enough to talk to me about this, I had to be brave enough to listen. “You never told me about that. You tried to save me.”

“Guess I forgot.” I hadn’t forgotten. I hadn’t wanted him to know that I’d failed him again, that my desperate attempt to save him in that moment had failed when it mattered most. I could feel his body heat as he slid closer, and swallowed, just managing to hold still, unsure still what he wanted of me.

“It’s a good thing one of us remembered.” Christ, how could he be trying to joke right now? He’d literally just remembered getting bashed over the head, and he wasn’t a sobbing mess. Just further proof that Justin Taylor was the strongest person I’d ever met, if I even needed more proof. His eyes met mine and I was caught by the storm raging beneath them as he leaned forward, capturing my lips in his own.

Everything seemed to pause. I watched, numb, as Justin reached forward, a hand on my collar as though he wanted to touch my shirt, but then he reached inside, the silk scarf I’d been wearing since that night coming into sharp focus. I couldn’t move. I felt frozen, as helpless as I had that night, watching numbly as Justin pulled the scarf from around my neck, the feeling akin to someone’s hands being removed from throttling a person, as he scrunched the scarf up into his hands before letting it slip to the floor as though it were nothing.

I’d failed in protecting him from Chris Hobbs. Now, apparently, I’d failed in protecting him from myself, as well.

“I want you inside me.”

“Are you sure?” I heard the way my voice broke, and tried to keep myself from reaching for him. If this was going to happen, it had to happen at his pace. At his request.

“Yeah.” Justin seemed to hesitate, adding, “just… take it easy.”

“Like the first time?” The memory had stuck with me though I’d tried to shake it, unable to. There was a slight curl of his lips, a hint of a smile. We’d always communicated best through touch… perhaps things could be like that again.

His lips met mine, and the rest of the world shattered, abandoned like a bloodied scarf.


End file.
